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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: New TG The Two of Us by Vickie Tern 3/3 femdom
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New TG The Two of Us by Vickie Tern 3/3  Femdom. M/F F/M etc

This is the kind of story people like who like this kind of story,
but they are allowed to read it only if they're the age they need 
to be to be allowed to read it.  

Other Vickie Tern tales can be found at:

http://library.gaycafe.com/nifty/transgender/by_authors/vickie_tern

Let her know what you think.









The next spunk he sucked so devotedly out of me was Brian's, his
own boss's, the very bank official who had first sent him here.  It
happened the first day after Jim's total makeover, when without
being fully aware of it Jim had committed to dressing and looking
like a woman for good, the first day after his three-week full-time
crash course in femininity had gotten under way.  I thought of
telling Jim this to mortify him, that he was sucking his boss's
cock at one remove, but I couldn't violate client confidentiality. 
Then I realized that with Brian's cooperation I could convert Jim
completely and irreversibly by the end of the three weeks
available.  So why shouldn't he suck his boss's cock directly, and
enjoy it?  Many women do.  No news there! 

I mentioned to Brian that I had this curious transsexual client,
a man he had recommended to me who now thought he was really a
woman and who thinks semen on a cock tastes like melted ice cream.
Brian immediately recognized that it was Jim, as I'd
intended, and immediately asked for an introduction to this "lady"
who felt so impelled to suck cock.  He'd wondered what was
happening with Jim because, as he said, Jim's perfume and make-up
had been duly noticed by everyone.  In fact he'd become something
of an embarrassment, fixing his face daily, arranging his hair like
a woman's even while he pretended to be a man, so he'd been
reassigned to a back office. 

I asked Brian straight out, would he let Jim suck his cock.  He was
amused by the idea.  He quipped that many employees seem willing in
order to secure  professional advancement, but even so, he'd have
trouble letting a man come near his prick.  He thought a bit
longer.  A man who looked and acted like a woman might be another
matter.  And a man who was already so much a woman he could never
again become a man, why, he'd enjoy being serviced by that kind of
woman.  Especially -- and he looked at me -- especially if there
were no charge for the service.  Was I sure that Jim's conversion
was now irreversible?  

I told him that in another week or two it would be, that with his
help there could be no going back for Jim ever.  What he had to do
was quite simple -- audit Jim's books at the bank.  But in absolute
secrecy, and to do absolutely nothing about whatever he found.  

Brian looked quite serious when I said this, and was about to
refuse.  But I added quickly that any irregularities in Jim's
accounts would be set straight together with whatever interest was
required to convert missing funds into "loans."   That I personally
guaranteed whatever the sums, as long as they remained
confidential.  That no one need ever know about them, nor about the
slack supervisorial hand that had allowed them even when the
employee began acting peculiarly unconventional.  That not even
Brian's wife needed to know that he had been tipped off to the
embezzlement, if any, by a woman who regularly gratifies his need
to be whipped.  I now looked back at Brian equally seriously.  

He grinned, and explained that when money has been mismanaged or
embezzled, most businesses prefer getting it all back quietly to
pressing charges against the embezzler and perhaps thereby giving
other employees ideas of their own, and meanwhile needlessly
distressing stockholders.  Of course the malefactor had to
disappear and never reappear again, or Brian would be obliged to
order his arrest.  I nodded and agreed.  Jim would disappear.

I then told Bryan that just as banks give depositors gifts of
radios or toasters, he would receive a bonus -- no charge for his
first few deposits into Jim's mouth, and afterward the two of them
would be free to make their own arrangements.  Brian might never
have to pay for oral sex again.  Brian smiled. "I wonder why you're
so generous," he commented.  Brian was no fool.

The next day, while Jim was slurping away at my pussy and drinking
up who knows who's cum, and while I was moaning, my mind delightedly
dancing through fields of fragrant flowers, I told Jim I had a 
arranged a special surprise for his next appointment.  I told him 
it would change his life.  I told him to try to look as beautiful 
as he could when he appeared, as feminine as possible.  I told him 
to ask his wife to help him look seductive.

That night he laid on the bed a choice, a beautiful, black
sequinned, figure-clinging cocktail dress, very classy, and a
really racy, silver-threaded, mini-slut dress.  Then he tried to
find the courage to broach the subject with me.  I knew he'd be
nervous, so I laced his pre-dinner cocktail with fresh
tranquillizers instead of relying as usual on whatever effects were
left from his usual morning pills.

"I'd like to look especially nice, tomorrow after lunch," he said. 
"I need to wear something appropriate.  Would you help me choose?"

I was a teeny bit cruel.  "Nice how, sweetheart?"

"Seductive," he said, and swallowed hard.

"All right," I said.  "Then slather on the eye make-up.  But
'appropriate?  For what?  A wedding?  Yours?  Who's the groom?" 

I said this unhelpfully while nibbling on the shrimp souffle Jim
had made as an appetizer.  He was spending more and more time in the
kitchen during the week doing fancy things, maybe because he felt
guilty that he was deceiving his wife with a paid mistress, maybe
because the hormones and the clothing and the role-playing had
turned his mind to doing traditional women's work.  When he'd
confessed that much to his Mistress one afternoon, I'd ordered him
to do something special for his wife each day, to show his
appreciation for her.  He'd started cooking exotic dishes for our
dinner each night.  That is, in addition to making the beds,
vacuuming and dusting, tending to our laundry, clearing up after
dinner, and rinsing out our delicate undies. 

He needed encouragement, not teasing, so I got serious.  "I've been
wondering when you would want me to see more of your dresses," I
commented.  "High time, too.  There's no reason for you to feel
restricted in the way you present yourself here in the house or
outside either, just because you used to be a man.  I love wearing
all kinds of dresses myself.  Let's see what you've chosen for this
special occasion."

Well, of course I urged him to wear the silver mini, which had a
teeny open jacket to match and a see-through blouse.  A girl
dressing up to suck her boss's cock should look like a tart, I
reasoned to myself, and I offered to lend him a ton or so of junk
jewelry to add to the effect.  "With a dress like this," I said,
"get yourself a special hairdo.  Piled way high, maybe with a
rhinestone hair piece on top."

The beauty salon operator went all out.  When Jim showed at Hospitality
House for his tryst with Brian his hair was piled high, his
nails were bright red, his new breasts were bulging in their scanty
lacy bra, deep cleavage fully visible through his see-through
blouse, his silver skirt scarcely covered his crotch, and he wore
long legged black net stockings.  I must say, Jim was a living
sex-pot sex-doll, all pretence of masculine appearance wiped away. 
I'd experimented with Lesbian sex in college, and the sight of him
reminded me of things I'd not myself done with a woman for a while.

He entered the room daintily on his five-inch strappy silver
slippers, and immediately saw a figure wearing my doll face sitting
on my throne at the other end of the room.  He approached and then
fell to his knees, eyes lowered.  But then came a moment's stunned
shock, when he saw a long, sheet-covered tent pole rising high out
of what he thought was my lap, and then heard my familar commanding
voice not in front of him but behind him.

"Now what does a pretty girl like you want to do when she sees a
handsome prick like that rising in front of her face?" 

I guess for all the feminizing and the humiliation and
scum-sucking, Jim had never expected to go this far!  Actually to
take another man's cock into his own mouth and suck in it.  Before,
whatever the humiliating act he had performed, it was in submission
to feminine power, deeply fulfilling to a submissive like Jim.  But
cock sucking was submission to masculine power.  It required that
all male competitiveness and jealousy in himself be suppressed, and
that he find within instead a truly feminine desire to please, to
make a man happy.  He looked around at me, imploring, seeking my
eyes for reassurance and guidance.  For the first time in all these
many months he looked closely at my face!  There was a sudden
narrowing of his pencilled-in brows!  Did I suddenly look familiar
to him?  "How dare you look at me!" I shouted, as if enraged.  "You
klnow what to do, slut!  Prove to me that you're a woman!"

Well, there was a call for submission to feminine power, mine!  His
habituation from all those sessions of sucking on my finger and
drinking cum from my cunt paid off.  Jim immediately turned back to
the task at hand, and performed it, and very well, too.  He peeled
back the sheet and engulfed Brian's long cock half way into his
mouth, and began to slide his lips up and down.  He still didn't
know how to deep throat then, Loretta, so when I saw that his mouth
could go no further I just placed those red tipped fingers of his
where they could stroke the lower part of his boss's cock while his
mouth honored the upper part.  His hand looked so tentative, so
feminine, so right, wrapped around another man's prick!  His
fingers looked even slenderer than mine, and his grip seemed so
loving!

Then his mouth and his hand each did their things.  I waited and
watched as Brian settled back and then began to thrust his hips and
then to hump Jim's mouth.  Finally what I could see of Brian's cock
lurched and spasmed, and pearly liquid began to seep out of the
corners of Jim's mouth.  He swallowed as rapidly as he could, and
licked the excess off his face and swallowed that.  I wondered if
the cum tasted familiar.  

I then said in a kindly way, "Do it again, princess!  This is a
man, and you're a woman!"  

Well, discipline tells!  I left the two of them in that room
together -- I had my other clients, after all --  but I paused at
the door to look back.   Jim leaned forward and began again,
tenderly kissing the tip of Brian's dong and licking the sides,
altogether on his own this time.  He looked so pretty kneeling
there in his silver mini outfit with his red lips wrapped around
Brian's cock, his very first cock, trying to bring cum up out of it
for the second time!  This time he wasn't merely surprised or
obedient, he really wanted it!  As Brian's meat began to firm up Jim
again plunged his rounded lips way down onto it, and again tried to
suck up whatever juices he could through it.  Gently and lovingly. 
Brian's second coming soon followed, and when the sticky harvest
rose up again into his mouth Jim this time was whimpering and
groaning in heat.  He loved it!  My husband was a natural!  As
devoted to sucking cock as to lapping cunt!  He'd never have known
it, but he surely knew it now!

Well, Loretta, Brian left soon afterward, with a grin and a wink,
mentioning that he'd phone for his next appointment in a few days'
time.  I went back into the room, where Jim was still on his knees
licking his lips.  Even as I watched, he straightened his silver
mini skirt and arranged it in a neat circle around him on the floor
and waited, as if the throne would shortly be re-occupied by
another upright stalk and he could again drink his fill.  It was
time for me to turn his world upside down.

I came up behind him and covered his eyes with one hand, mostly so
he wouldn't be tempted to turn his head, and pressed the palm of my
other hand against his jaw, pushing it down, opening his mouth
wide.  He recognized my intention and opened wider.  I had
consulted several of my medical clients about this moment, and a
senior psychiatrist at the State Hospital had provided me with
exactly the optimal drug I needed.  Two large pills.  I popped them
into Jim's mouth, and like a dutiful girl he swallowed them.  Then
I sat down on the throne, and kneeling, he stared at me.

He saw his wife sitting on the throne, Loretta.  I could see it in
his eyes even before he said, "You!" in dumbfounded disbelief.  His
wife was dressed just like his Mistress, her hair pulled back and
her eyes blackened and her lips crimsoned.  "Where is she?" he
added.  But as I'd been told, he had swallowed some very powerful
fast-acting psychoactive drugs, and almost immediately he began to
look confused.  Who was "she" -- the Mistress he'd served for now
six months or more?  His wife?  His own image in the mirror?  This moment
addled him utterly.  

"I'm here, Jim," I said in my familiar, wifely voice.  Then, "I'm
here, slut!  Do it again!"  This last I ordered ferociously, in my
most outraged Mistress voice.  I placed a huge dildo against my
crotch, its rubber balls loaded with gelatinized Gatorade, real cum
accumulated in the last day or two, and finally, a sedative.  "Suck
on this, slut!"

In flight from his increasing confusion and bewilderment, Jim
leaned forward and began to lick the head of the dildo as he had on
Brian's prick.  He then sucked on it, his lips riding up and then
down again.  That became his only reality as his eyes grew more
confused and groggy, then glazed.  Just before they closed, I
squeezed the dildo's balls repeatedly, and jets of warm artificial
cum squirted into his mouth.  He swallowed it all like the slut he
really was, and his head fell forward, and he fell asleep with his
cheek snugged up against my mound.  He looked so sweet, his hair
still almost perfect, his eyes closed but each still beautifully
made up, his lipstick smeared in a good cause.

I took him home and put him to bed and kept him in a kind of
twilight zone for nearly a month, Loretta.  The "Sleep Cure" is
what the French called it a hundred years ago, when they'd drug
mental patients for weeks on end to cure them of their delusions.
I was doing it to induce in Jim a delusion that would become his
reality, that he was a woman, that he had always been a woman, and
that he loved performing his chief obligation as a woman, looking
pretty and giving head to men.   

Two more of those special pills the moment he woke up.  Prozac in
between, double the dose more often than not.  When he opened his
eyes, sometimes he'd see a woman who looked like his wife looking
down on him lovingly, and sometimes -- after he'd recognized he was
home in his own bed -- he'd see his Mistress telling him "Suck!" 
Followed immediately by cocks, one after another, because he'd then
be back in a chamber in Hospitality House dressed like a cheap slut 
stationed at a waiting-room glory hole, taking on whatever cock came 
through it. Then dressed in his silver mini with his hair piled high, 
he'd spend hours making love to Brian's cock.  Or someone's cock,
someone wearing the Bimbo mask, someone whose cock was fatter than
Brian's though nowhere near as long, or was longer, until it no longer
mattered whose.  At home in his own bed, he sucked for hours on 
his wife's cock, while she wore the Bimbo mask, ordered and 
encouraged by his Mistress sitting in a chair and watching them. 

Hallucinated realities gradually gave way to realities that were
not much different.  My five Rotarians earned their way back into
my good graces by making their pricks available to Jim's mouth any
time on short notice, whenever I called their 800 number, and
during the next weeks they gathered to gang rape his face
repeatedly.  Brian's cock was of course available almost any time
for more servicing, now that he knew how talented a cock sucker Jim
was.  In my gratitude I whipped him far more severely than I ever
usually whip a client, then fucked him far more vigorously and
joyously.  He'd cum like a fountain into me, and when I brought it
home to Jim still warm and woke Jim up by sitting on his face, he'd
begin drinking and lapping as if he'd not stopped from the
previous time.   

During the next few weeks Jim learned to take any long, hard, warm,
soft object into his throat unquestioningly, and to tongue and head
fuck it until it spurted directly into his belly, if it could.  A
carrot, a banana, a frankfurter, a dildo, a real cock, they
were all the same.  Toward the end of this Twilight Training period
I'd lighten up on his drugs so he could at least walk and talk like
some zonked out little girl, dress him up like a pretty coed, and
rent his pretty mouth out to fraternity parties for the weekend. 
While in college I'd done it once on a dare and had OD'd on all the 
cum I swallowed the first night, so they had to put me out on the lawn
still retching until my date came to claim me.  Not Jim!  He had a
cast iron stomach it seemed.  He couldn't swallow enough of it! 
But boys that age are the same way they always were, Loretta.  You
remember.  You can't trust them.  Whatever they'd promised, no
matter how many times they'd use Jim's mouth, some of them were
always trying to get into Jim's pants too.  So I'd always have to
stay and watch, and warn them, and finally bring Jim home before
the weekend was over.

While Jim was still home sleeping, or learning womanly skills, or
wandering dazed from cock to cock, Brian's audit was completed.  As
I'd suspected, there was no way Jim had been paying for my services
out of pocket.  Our joint savings account had gone before Jim had
filled his bureau with bras and panties.  A month or so after his
first visit Jim had paid out to me our entire life savings -- many
thousands of dollars.  Then for additional month after month he'd
continued to hand my receptionist $1500 of the bank's money weekly,
sometimes borrowed on his signature with no hope he could ever pay
it back, sometimes just stolen.

I'd deposited the money in my own account and said nothing, of
course.  By the end of the time Jim spent as a slut
who woke in the morning, selected his outfit, painted his face,
fixed his hair, and then sucked cock all day, more than $55,000 had
changed hands.  He'd increased his capital debt to the accounts in
his charge by $1,500 each week in return for the privilege of
masturbating into a panty or kotex in my presence.  His wardrobe
costs rose many thousands more.  

Do you know, Loretta, that a few pieces of his lingerie cost him
more than all of mine cost me?  But of course when a satin and lace
nightie fascinated him, I never wanted him to deny himself.  That
dress he's wearing right now is an original Oscar de la Renta, did
you know that, Loretta?  He loves to dress well!  His boy friends
all know that no matter how posh the place they take him, Jim will
always fit in.  Some of his jewelry is rather valuable too, though
it's true, much of it was given to him by grateful admirers, and a
lot more he bought with the proceeds from his mouth and asshole.
 
Came the reckoning, I paid Brian's Bank back with substantial
interest, and there were no further questions.  For months
afterward Brian would call Jim for personal services, and Jim would
oblige Brian the way women will, but nothing serious ever developed
between them -- they remained just good friends.  Jim -- or Jamie
I should say -- has tried recently to get Brian interested in his
ass as well as his mouth, but Brian has always told him "No, I
prefer fucking your wife."   He says this rather directly, though
I've asked him not to.  Poor Jim hears him and looks puzzled, but
can't put two and two together.  He has no wife, he thinks, because
he's a woman.  The pills of course.

For a clincher I took Jim off the sedatives and tranquillizers and
anti-depressants and so on for a few days.  When he was nearly
himself, I could see he was edgy, trying to figure out if his thin
arms and curved thighs and women's boobs were his, and where his
shirts and pants had gone, if he'd ever had any.  Then I hired some
burly men to come to the door asking for him and using words like
"bank" and "subpoena" and "shortfall" and "warrant" and "ciminal
embezzlement" and "arrest."  Jim was terrified, and when they'd
gone I found him hidden up in his bedroom in his negligee, his face
only half-made up and his hair a mess.  He knew why they had come,
and he could scarcely breathe until their car left.  He said that
if they saw him they'd recognize him.  

I doubted it.  I pointed out that they were looking for a man, and
he'd always been a woman.  Still, now was as good a time as any for
him to get his nose bobbed and his chin shortened the way he'd
always wanted to ever since we were teenaged girls together, best
friends who told each other everything.  He looked at me strangely
when I said that, but as you can see, Loretta, that's what he did.

When the so-called bank investigators came back Jim broke down and
confessed everything to me.  He had paid out our money and the
bank's to a woman who had turned him into my childhood friend -- he
didn't know why.  When his fresh pills kicked in, I asked him if he
was sure such a woman ever existed.  It seemed improbable, after
all, why should any woman conspire to change another woman into a
woman?  Jim had no answer.  He described Hospitality House accurately
as a place where they'd given him panties and bras for free
whenever he sucked men's and women's cocks.  I chided him that he
was describing my place of business, well-known to him, not some
supposed other woman's.  I reminded him that now and then he helps
me out there, by sucking cocks or helping me to relax between
customers by licking my cunt clean.  That explanation made sense to
him.  Girlhood friends would do that for each other.  Loretta, even
now he'll stop by to lick me clean whenever he's in the vicinity,
shopping or something, and it feels as womderful as ever!  He's such
a dear!

Once he woke up sobbing, and he confessed that in some of his dreams
he couldn't tell this supposed Mistress from me, and that once in
his dreams he had even imagined that I was his wife, that he had
once been a man and had been married to me, and that he had done
something bad and that with my help he was hiding out as a woman. 
I kissed him then, and told him that was sweet, that we were indeed
the dearest of friends, and it was as if we were married, 
and that whenever that apprehension came upon him again he should 
remember what the doctor told him and take an additional pill.  
He should always be happy, never afraid of anything.  
In the not-too-distant future he'd have that operation
we've talked about that would remove his imaginary penis and balls
from his crotch and reveal the real vagina underneath, just like
any other women's.  I reminded him he should look forward to it, 
if only because his vagina will share the strain on his ass when 
he dates too often and his dates get too manly with him too often.  
He's gotten used to the idea now, and in fact he likes it.

I hired one more investigator last year ago to shoulder
his way into the house with a supposed search warrant and go
looking for any evidence that any man named Jim had ever lived
here.  I wanted to know if I'd overlooked anything Jim might
stumble upon some day, that might bring back unwanted memories. 
Jim let him in, but told him calmly that he must have the wrong
address.  The man finally agreed, after looking all morning in all
of our drawers and closets and cubbyholes.  There was no Jim. 
There never was.  We were a household of two women, me and Jamie. 
And that's what we've been for over a year now, and will be for
years to come. 

It's so good of Helen to lend you to us, Loretta!  Not many wives
would!  But you know how things get down here during the winter
season.  I need all the help I can get right now, and then on top
of it to be called away!  I'm delighted you can stand in for me
while I'm away.  Really grateful!

She did do a wonderful job with you, Loretta, you know?  As her
husband you were a decent enough man, but you're gorgeous now!  And
a dominant, too!  That's rare -- you know of course that most males
are submissives like Jim when they become women, that's why they're
so good at keeping house and sucking cocks and so on.  They can't
give an order to another man to save their skins.  And whip one, or
manipulate him to do what you want?  Forget it!  You must have
really wanted to be a dominant woman for the longest time.  No? 
Your wife persuaded you that you wanted to be one, someone like
herself, or like me, and then she trained you to it?  Then I'm
really impressed, Loretta!  Especially with Helen!  What she did
with you was much more difficult than anything I've done, with Jim
or with any of the other men who've wanted me to feminize them.  

Loretta, has Helen ever thought of moving down here with you?  
Together we could form a partnership, and pretty soon I bet we could 
be supplying half the brothels in the State with whores.  With cock
suckers at the very least.  There's a military school just outside
of town, with all the boys we'd ever want, plenty of them easily
turned into girls or catamites just as soon as they confess their
little kink to us.  Really, any kink at all.  Do tell your wife to
think about it.

Well, Loretta, I've got to get going now.  The sooner I'm there,
the sooner I'm back.  Now that it's time to leave, I really wish 
now I hadn't promised Brian's wife I'd help her out when Brian 
wakes up.  When he sees what she's had done to
that terrific prick of his, and realizes it's gone for good,
he's not going to be happy.  I've told her it'll take a really
big cock inside his new cunt to show him that there's been gain as
well as loss, that he won't really quit mourning for his lost
manhood until he's been devastatingly fucked over and over again. 
She says that'll happen in good time, that maybe in fact she'll
hire a stud to service both of them for a while.  She has a man
in mind who'd visit her, sometimes, when Brian was visiting me. 
She thinks that'll be poetic justice.

Anyhow, she wants me to come, she says, because she needs me and I
owe her.  I owe her because I led Brian into infidelity, she says,
whipping him to get him hot instead of just telling her what he
wanted, then providing him with several places a married man's
prick should never be found, including my vagina and my own
husband's mouth.  And she finally told me that Brian's now also
hiding from bank examiners, only from real ones.  It seems I'd
given him ideas, or Jim had.  Now that she has control of the
money, she says, the bank will never see it again, so Brian has to
disappear the way Jim did.  She's done no more with Brian than I
have with Jim, she says, all unsatisfactory husbands being pretty
much the same.  Only she thought it wiser in his case to castrate
him first and then feminize him, instead of doing it the other way
around.  I couldn't disagree.

Finally, she says that I'm more experienced than she is in helping
a man become a woman, and friends help each other out.  We are
friends now, you know, Loretta.  I called her for a friendly chat
the very first day that Brian told me that now that he knew all
about Jim, and how I had tricked Jim, he didn't think he should 
have to pay my fees for his sessions with me any more.  Maybe 
I'd need to pay him!  Well, Brian's wife and I did a lot of 
talking about that, figuring out what to do with Brian.  
She's right.  Friends help each other.  

So, Loretta, now you know it all.  I've got to be with Brian and
his wife for the next two weeks, till he really knows in his heart
that he's got only one direction to go now.  You have their number
if there's a problem.  Hospitality House and its equipment and its
client list and this house and Jim are all yours now, and thanks in
advance for offering to mind them for me.  Take good care of them. 
My receptionist'll brief you on my different clients' special needs
day by day, and now you know all about Jim's.  

Remember to call him Jamie, would you, so he doesn't get confused? 
And see to it that he gets a cock to suck now and then, if his
usual men don't call.  He was never really much of a man, I
suppose, though he used to imagine he was once a husband
at least, poor thing!  Even I used to think so, sometimes.  I guess
he was, in a way.  He did do it all for the two of us, for his
Mistress and his wife, if you think of it that way.  Now of course
he knows better.  He knows that he and I are each old girlfriends
who live together and enjoy each other's company, and share
everything, but not our men.  Make sure that he takes all his pills
every day, would you, Loretta, so he doesn't get himself confused
about that?  And if you should ever want to try him out for yourself, 
be my guest!

END



(c)1998 by Vickie Tern.  Archiving for free access and
single-copying permitted, but nothing for money except by prior
agreement.

Vickie Tern@AOL.COM

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